The camera fades in on a sunlit room with floor to ceiling windows, revealing a stunning view of a sprawling city outside.

Herschel Kiss stands in the middle of the room in a fine three-piece suit.

"Life threw me to the mat once."

"A few years ago I'm a member of the most powerful stable in the XWF. Then suddenly, one day. Poof, all gone along with my livelihood. By God I had made it to that big apartment in the sky, and in an instant I was tossed back to the gutter."

"Why?"

"Cause Vinnie hate me."

"But just like in the ring, when life fucks you up, you gotta rise up and bodyslam your problems away."

Cut to a clip of Herschel in line at a fast food joint. 

The worker hands him the wrong order.

Herschel's expression darkens.

"You think this a fuckin' game!?"

In an instant, Herschel picks up the worker and delivers a massive bodyslam through the counter.

"You can't be taking no shit, ESPECIALLY from those who think they better than you!"

Cut to another scene, this time of Herschel driving. 

A police officer waves him down for speeding.

Officer: "License and registration, please."

"Nah, fuck that!"

Before the officer can react, Herschel steps out, lifts him effortlessly, and bodyslams him onto the soft grass by the road.

"An' you gotta hold people accountable for they stupid shit!"

Next, we see Herschel at a park.

A dog walker carelessly lets their pet leave a mess. 

Herschel stands up from the bench.

"Really? Right in front of me?"

The dog walker smirks and shrugs, but not for long. 

Herschel lunges, picking up the guy for a spectacular bodyslam onto the poo!

Cue promo, yo!

"Yo, Edgar! Remember that time Charlie Nickles thought he'd kidnapped me, only to find me chowing down on donuts back at BOB HQ?"

"I've always been hard to pin down... unless there's a fresh batch of glazed in the vicinity."

"Sure, I have my sweet vices, but things gonna be different now."

"Nowadays, I've got my own workout routine."

"One sit up for every donut I grab. That's right, I'm on that elite training program."

"I've mastered the finger curls. Perfect for navigating a dessert menu!"

"And those lunges for the last slice of pizza? Elite-level cardio, my friend."

"Don't get me started on jaw strength. I've powered through more than a dozen family sized chip bags in one sitting!"

"Yo, Edgar, next time you lay eyes on me, just know, this solid slab of sweetness is starvin', fam!"

"Big Puddin' ain't about those crumbs no more."

"I'm craving that full plate of W's."

"Watch yourself, 'cause in two weeks, I'm eatin' all your feels, bruh!"

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three courses!"

"Mmmmmm Mmm!"

"Trust, ain't nobody leaving the table til Big Puddin's full!"

"You know I ain't even cappin'"

End Promo, yo!







(SIGH)









Cut to an editing room where the whole scene just played. 

There are three people from the production team watching the large screen, eagerly turning their heads towards Herschel who's lounging on a sofa at the back, sipping some soda.

Production Assistant: "So, Herschel... what do you think? It's... transformative, right? Shows your journey..."

Camera Guy: "Loved the bit at the park. Throwing people into poop is always a fun time!"

Herschel slowly turns his head, giving Camera Guy a slightly disgusted side eye.

"Man, you and I got very different ideas of fun."

Camera Guy, sensing he may have said something odd, starts to fidget.

Camera Guy: "I mean, uh, you know, the visual comedy. Just...never mind."

Sound Guy: "The audio was crisp, every breath, every grunt, ever slam. Real good stuff if I do say so myself."

A painfully long silence ensues while Sound Guy sniffs his own farts. 

Herschel places his soda down, takes a deep breath, and looks up.

"Nah man, that shit is trash!"

The production team exchange nervous glances. 

The PA tries to hide behind his clipboard.

The Sound Guy looks stupid disrespected.

Camera Guy's just hitting his THC vape without a care.

"Where's Todd? Why'd y'all make me film all them phony scene's anyway? Ain't nobody buying none of that shit, fam!"

Camera Guy: "We just thought, you know... You know... fresh angle... and stuff?"

"Yo, I think you people didn't think at all! I ain't about that fake shit, man. I ain't about pretending. The people? They want real. They want the raw, the rugged, the truth! Not some bullshit about me body slamming cops and inconsiderate pet owners! That shit lame anyway? How that shit supposed to sell me to the XWF Universe? They gonna think I'm a one-trick pony and a Goddamned joke!"

Camera Guy: "Heh, they already think you're a joke!"

Herschel looks at that man like he stole a rib off straight off of his plate!

Sound Guy realizes he fucked up and begins to fidget again.

Sound Guy: "We can do another take, Herschel. Something more... authentic?"

Herschel Kiss Stands up.

"Burn that fuckin' bullshit y’all made up. I ain't following no damn script. We're doing it my way. Raw. Unfiltered. REAL."

The Production Assistant, who until now had been nervously flipping through his notes, cleared his throat, drawing Herschel's attention.

"Uh, Herschel, while we understand your desire for authenticity... lower card talents like you need to clear any promo changes through management. It's... protocol."

Herschel turned slowly to face the PA, eyebrows raised, "You saying I gotta ask for permission to be real? To be myself?"

Camera Guy, sensing another storm brewing, quickly intervened. "Look, Herschel, we get where you're coming from, but there's a system in place. Rules."

Sound Guy added, nodding in agreement, "Yeah, man. We're just doing our jobs. We gotta follow the guidelines they give us."

Herschel took a moment, clearly trying to contain his frustration. 

"Fine," he huffed, "but if they don't like what I got to say, they can deal with me personally. An' maybe I do start bodyslaming my damn problems away!"

The PA swallowed hard!

"I'll, uh, send the changes up the chain. See what they say."

Herschel, without missing a beat, shot back.

"Nah, fuck that. I'll do it myself! An' don't think I'm gonna forget how y'all tried to muzzle me when I get to the top neither!"

Inside the XWF headquarters, It felt a bit like stepping back in time. 

As Herschel walked through the corridors, photos of historic wrestling matches and snap shots of the most memorable promos adorned the wall and photos of wrestling legends stared him down, almost challenging him as he walked past.

Herschel Kiss made his way down the hall of legends confident beyond is stature. 

He was on a mission: to have a word with "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane, the principal owner of the XWF. 

That disaster of a promo was still fresh on his mind, and Herschel wanted to set things straight.

Reaching a grand wooden door adorned with Vinnie's name, Herschel paused for a moment, taking a breath. But before he could knock, his eyes caught a hastily scribbled post-it stuck to the door: "Not in the office due to covid and stuff! Sorry dudes!"

Herschel raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "Really?" he muttered to himself, wondering if Covid was even still a big concern. 

With a frustration fueled shake of his head, he pondered his next move.

Then, as he turned away from Vinnie's door, his eyes settled on Theo's, and it was open to boot!

Theo seemed preoccupied even as he wrapped up his phone call. 

"Yes, yes, I've got it. Pyrotechnics and all that. Got it. Bye." 

Hanging up, he looked up at Herschel, scanning him briefly before saying, "Mr. Stephens, I assume?"


Herschel frowned, thrown off for a moment. "WHO? Nah, fam! You really not recognize me?"

Theo blinked, staring blankly as he went through his mental files, finally replying with genuine confusion, "No... I'm afraid not. So you're not Cedric Stephens here for the transport position interview?"

Herschel's annoyance was evident. 

"Man, are you for real? I'm here about that lame ass promo y'all had me shoot! I wanna change that shit up. Get away from those tired fat jokes y'all had me doing back in the day. Let me be me. Let it be real!"

Theo scratched his head, looking even more bewildered. 

"Promo? Fat jokes?" He squinted, trying hard to place Herschel but coming up empty. 

"Look, I deal with a lot of folks here, and sometimes faces...well, they get lost in the shuffle."

Herschel was about to blow his top, but Theo, ever the dismissive bureaucrat, waved his hand. 

"Look, whoever you are, if you got a problem with a promo, just redo it your way. Can't be any worse than what's already out there, right?"

The unintentional dig had Herschel grinding his teeth, but he took a deep breath. 

If it meant he got to ditch the horrible promo, he'd swallow his pride. 

"Alright, man. I'll do it my way. But next time, remember the name: Herschel Kiss."

As Herschel walked out, Theo called after him.

"And good luck with the...promo, was it?"

Rolling his eyes, Herschel exited, determined to make a lasting impression this time around and maybe pick up a few more bookings.




The camera fades in on a gritty urban street corner.

The sun is setting and the last rays of sunlight cast an orange hue on the graffiti covered brick walls.

There’s a rhythmic beat echoing in the background.

A mix of hip-hop and the noise of the city.

The camera zooms in on a large figure leaning against the wall of a dilapidated building.

It’s Herschel Kiss, clad in a worn-out leather jacket, a gold chain glistening around his neck, and a black fedora tilted to the side.

He pushes off the wall and walks towards the camera with swagger.

"You know, I've been hearing a lot of buzz around the streets. Whispers in the alleyways. The return of RL Edgar. Man's been outta the game for over a year, but suddenly, he decides to waltz back in like he's the king of the block?"

Herschel chuckles and smirks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Let me school you real quick, Edgar. See, while you were out on your little hiatus, enjoying the high life with all that money you done made, I was out here, grinding."

"Yeah, maybe the XWF didn't book me as much. Maybe I was pushed to the side, but let's get one thing straight. I ain't never left willingly. Herschel Kiss ain't no punk!"

"While yo ass chose to walk away from the table, I was out here, hustling, trying to get that bread and stay fed."

"They say the streets never forget, and trust me, they ain't forgetin' about Herschel Kiss anytime soon."

He pauses, taking a deep breath and pointing a finger at the camera.

"You might've only had a touch more success than me in the ring, but you and me? We ain't nowhere near cut from the same cloth. You well fed, and believe me when I say, I'm always hungry. Fucking starvin', fam!"

Herschel grabs his belly and stares dead into the camera with a wide-eyed intensity.

"I was trying to steer clear of them fat jokes, but look at me. This belly? I got it on account of the fact that no matter how much I eat, I always desire MORE! That what this shit about, init? Desire!? Passion!? Ambition!? You walked away from wrestling, I never did. Wrestling walked out on me. But I'm back, And I plan on staying back!"

He gestures at the lively setting behind him, the food truck, the people, the fact that they're being robbed at gun-point.

"See this? This is my world. Every corner, every alley, every crack in the pavement. It all me. This city molded me, made me who I am. Made me tough. And you, Edgar? You think you can come back and stake a claim whenever yo sensitive ass feelin' up to it? Nah, man. Not today. I'd tell you to just keep yo ass at home, but I gots an impression to leave, fool!"

He leans in closer, his tone more menacing.

"The only reason I'm getting this shot is 'cause the roster's so thin they were 'bout to have to cancel Warfare. You ain't think I realize that shit? I know where I currently stand. Damn Theo ain't even know my name! But that just mean that your boy Herschel needs to take full advantage of this opportunity. Man, that shit gonna be a tough look for you, fam."

He shakes his head with a smirk, looking almost pityingly at the camera.

"Come Warfare, I'm 'bout to show you what real hunger looks like. What real desire feels like. And trust me, RL, you ain't gonna be ready for it. Because I ain't gonna just wrestle. I gonna devour yo punk ass an' send you back on another year long hiatus!"

He cracks his knuckles and nods.

"Yo ass 'bout to get a taste of the streets. And trust me, it's a flavor you won't forget. Now what you think you gonna do about it, bitch-boy!?"

Just then, as the scene behind him seems moments from its climax, Herschel Kiss interviens by grabbing the thug from behind in a massive bear hug. Shocked, the thug's gun slips from his head and bounces off of the cocreate.

"Yo, you really think you'd get away with that shit?"

The thug struggles, but Herschel effortlessly slams him against the side of the truck, making a LOUD THUD that silences the street momentarily.

Herschel spins the guy around and leans in, threateningly.

"This right here?"

"This is my favorite grub spot!"

"And that man inside? That's my boy, Fred!"

"I don't know if you know me or not, but I'll go ahead and introduce myself."

"The name's Herschel Kiss, an everything you see here, it all belongs to me."

"Now, if I ever catch you around here, or if you even THINK about messing with Fred again, you're gonna meet my pal Herschel FUCKING Kill, an' that motherfucker ain't nowhere near as chill as me, ya dig!?"

The thug's eyes widen with fear.

Thug: "I...I didn’t know, man. I swear. I'm sorry!"

Herschel releases his grip, and the thug doesn't waste a second. 

He bolts, running faster than anyone would've imagined, quickly disappearing around a corner.

There's a moment of silence, then the crowd erupts in CHEERS and APPLAUSE for Herschel. 

A few people even pat him on the back and give him appreciative nods.

You can tell that Herschel enjoys all of the attention.

From inside the food truck, FRED leans out with a mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes.

FRED: "Thanks, Herschel. I owe you one, man."

"Yo, Fred, you know how to pay me back? Lemme get one of them hot dogs."

Fred chuckles, already reaching for a fresh bun and a sizzling hot dog.

"Uh, maybe two?"

Fred: "Sure thing!"

"Ya know, I am pretty hungry. Is three okay?"

Fred's hand stops mid-motion, a sigh almost escaping his lips but he masks it with a smirk.

Fred: "For you Herschel, I'll make a dozen!"

Herschel's eyes widen, almost comically. The thought of a dozen free hot dogs seems to give him a renewed lust for life.

"Two dozen?"

Fred just stops, giving Herschel a flat, disbelieving stare.

"What!? I'm hungry man!"

The scene fades to black with Herschel practically drooling all over himself.